Become You
by queenheart25
Summary: An AU of sorts on Brooke’s eating disorder storyline… What if her father, Mike, hadn’t caught her when he did?
1. Hope Alone

An AU of sorts on Brooke's eating disorder storyline… What if her father, Mike, hadn't caught her when he did? This fanfic takes place after Harrison John and Brooke McQueen's race for Student Council President and Harrison has been admitted to the hospital for treatment of cancer.

I do not own these characters!! They belong to the creators Ryan Murphy and Gina Matthews.

(The first part of the story was taken from episode 2.8, **Misery Loathes Company** and is in _italics_. Full credit goes to the writers of the episode- Oliver Goldstick & Deidre Strohm!!)

_Brooke is alone with Harr__ison John in his hospital room._

"_Hey… Harrison, look… I feel terrible for how I treated you during the elections, and please believe me, if I had known what you were going through, I would never-"_

_Harrison cuts in. "Don't apologize, Brooke."_

"_I want you to know how badly I feel."_

"_No, you want you know how badly __**you**__ feel. Please, stop campaigning. Stop trying to pretend that this is about anything else than you convincing yourself that deep down you're really a good person." _

_Brooke looks slightly hurt by what Harrison just said, but tries to ignore it. "That's not why I'm here."_

"_Sure, it is. Wow, my God…Please, if you come away from this stupid election with anything, let it be one ounce of self-knowledge. You're the loneliest person I know. Behind that smile there's this desperate person who doesn't think she deserves any happiness so she goes out of her way to control every situation. Well, I've got an update for you, Brooke. You can't control what's happening to me. So, please, save the speech for yourself."_

_Brooke has had enough. "Clearly, you have no idea who I am." She turns _and runs out of the room. She keeps running until she spots a vending machine. Brooke stares at all the options while mentally adding up the calories of each chocolate bar and bag of chips in her head. She rifles through her purse and comes up with five dollars. Shaking, she places the money in the machine and selects her options- two of her favourite chocolate bars. When they fall down, she grabs them quickly and takes off running once again, this time for the nearest exit, not even bothering to take her change.

--later that evening

"Brooke, honey, are you sure you don't want any steak?" Jane asks, concerned.

Brooke shook her head. "No. No, thank you Jane. Nicole and I ate after we went to see Harrison in the hospital."

"Oh, you went to see Harrison? How's he holding up?"

Brooke subtly rolls her eyes. "Oh, he seems to be holding up just fine." Under her breath she growls "He sure has no problem acting like a jerk to people who are supposed to be his friends. Lonely..Ha! He doesn't know me…I'll show him…"

Jane tilts her head. "What was all that?"

Brooke's cheeks turn a shade of rose. "Nothing, nothing. Harrison seems to be doing fine."

Mike comes around the corner and sits down at the table. "Apparently Sam's been held up somewhere… It looks like it's just the three of us! Are you sure you don't want anything to eat?"

Brooke shook her head once again. "Water's fine. I'll sit and keep you company." As she sips on the water in her glass, she feels overcome to take a big scoop of the mashed potatoes sitting in front of her. No, she reminds herself, you binged on the chocolate bars earlier. But you also purged them afterwards another voice commented. It would be alright to have some food now. Brooke closes her eyes.

"Brooke, are you alright?"

Mike's voice breaks the silence in Brooke's head and her eyes snap open. "Huh? Oh, sure. I'm alright. It's just a tension headache. All the stress of the elections is really taking its toll, plus with Harrison being sick, Sam running from Homecoming Queen...It's all a little overwhelming. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to take some Tylenol and go rest upstairs."

"Oh, of course, sweetheart. You've been spending so many late nights working on debates or speeches, you deserve some rest." Jane says with a smile.

Brooke returns the smile. "Thanks, Jane. Goodnight!" Brooke then kisses her father and her would-be step-mother on their respected cheeks and heads up the stairs to her bedroom.

--

Standing in front of the mirror in her room in just her matching bra and underwear set, Brooke suddenly feels a wave of disgust rush through her. "I'm so… ugly." She whispers pinching her stomach. "Starting now I will dedicate myself to becoming pure. Nothing but bones…" She feels her collarbones with the fingers on her left hand, bringing her hand down to feel the bones in her chest. "I'll be better. I'll be perfect. Then we'll see who's lonely…"

Brooke then turns away from the mirror, slips off her bra, and puts on a pair of her comfiest pajamas. Without missing a beat, she careful sits down on the carpeted floor and starts doing some simple stretches, and before long, Brooke feels almost completely relaxed. With a yawn she turns to her digital clock to see what the time is. 11:45 the red numbers blink back at her. Time to turn in for the night, she thinks. Tomorrow would be the real challenge.


	2. All You Wanted

All You Wanted

Note: Another difference in this fic from the real plot that I forgot to mention in the first chapter is that Sam never pulled out of the race for Homecoming Queen. Everything else stands, and I still do **not **own these characters!!!! (As much as I wish I did!)

The warm glow of the morning sun filtering through the window causes Brooke to wake up before her alarm goes off. She gets up and stretches her arms outwards, making a clear point to avoid the mirror.

Quickly pulling on a pair of jeans and a light blue sweater, Brooke takes a deep breath as if already knowing the exact lies she's going to have to tell just to get through this day. Just as she's running a brush through her hair for the final time, her alarm finally goes off. The sounds of Michelle Branch seem to gracefully fit in with the air of her bedroom.

_…I'm sinking slowly  
So hurry hold me  
Your hand is all I have to keep me hanging on  
Please can you tell me  
So I can finally see  
Where you go when you're gone… _

Shutting off the music, Brooke then grabs her school bag and heads out of her room and downstairs. The first test of the day.

"'Morning!" Sam exclaims with a mouth full of cereal. "The parental units are gone, in case you were wondering. Something about a doctor's appointment…I was only half listening."

Brooke nods in acknowledgement, feeling slightly relieved. "Well… I guess I'm going to head over to Kennedy now. I want to see if I can get in to talk to Mr Krupps before first class."

Sam rolls her eyes. "Already to start your Presidential duties? What will poor April think!"

Brooke sighs. "I know it hasn't been announced to the school yet. But do you really think that April 'queen of the sci-fi geeks' Tuna will become the new school President? As…Interesting as that would be for the school, Principal Krupps already let it slip to me that I won by a landslide. He wants to start prepping me on my responsibilities now so that I can take full advantage of my reign. I think that I'll be a memorable President of the Student Body, and so does he."

"Yeah, yeah. I believe you. Just promise me you won't go crazy with all of this. Take your time, think things through…"

Brooke smirks. "Why? Afraid I'll be such an outstanding Pres that I'll steal your Homecoming Queen thunder?"

"Ha ha ha! Funny. You never know, I could win!"

Brooke raises her eyebrows.

"Fine! Go. Leave if you're leaving! Let me plot your downfall and eat my breakfast in peace."

"Sure thing. See you in class."

--

"Hey, what's up, B?" Nicole asks nudging Brooke with her elbow. "We've been going on about the new Gwyneth movie for hours and you haven't said two words. Please tell me you're not still moping over the whole Josh/Lily thing. Take it from me hon, if he would rather be with that Nature Valley freak than with you than he has some serious issues and is not worth even a minute of your time. So do yourself a favour and stop letting him consume your life and let the rest of the guy population know that you're single and looking. And before you know it you'll be hitting the sheets with an even better guy."

Brooke smiles weakly. "Thanks, Nic. I'm sure you're right. But I don't even think I want to be involved in the dating world right now. I've actually been thinking about possible changes I can make as President." Brooke takes a sip of her diet soda and nibbles on the corner of a ham sandwich. As soon as she realizes what's doing, she throws the sandwich down on the table in disgust. The girls at the table look at her curiously. "It tastes gross." She says hoping that they'll believe it. "I think the bread's mouldy." Please change the subject, please change the subject… Brooke chants to herself as she finds herself in the middle of a discussion about food.

Then Mary Cherry speaks up ending the food debate. "You know, hon, your first act as President should be to enlist the help of some hunky men to be fashion police. Yeah. Then you can book all of these fashion rejects that surround us so that our beauty is not lessened by all the ugly!"

Nicole whacks Mary Cherry. "Brooke-y does not want to waste her time doing something stupid!"

"Thanks Nic-"

"No..What you should do, B, is convince Krupps to put me back on the Glamazons..."

The discussion on what Brooke should do first went on and on until Brooke couldn't take it anymore. She excuses herself from the table and heads to the Novak. _President,_ _pressure, poise, perfection…_ Once she's locked herself in one of the stalls, and has checked to make sure no one else is in the room, she takes three individually wrapped brownies out of her purse. As neatly but as furiously as possible Brooke swallows the three extra sugary treats. Guilt waves through her as she looks at the now empty wrappers in her hand. Tears have already started to form in her eyes. FAILURE! Her minds voice yells at her. YOU'RE WORTHLESS! PIG! Well, you know what you have to do now. Nodding to herself and wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater, Brooke checks once more to make sure no one has since entered the washroom.

_Perfection, perfection, perfection… _

--

Later that evening, Brooke is sitting on her bed flipping through the latest issue of _Vogue_ magazine. She managed to get through dinner without a problem, claiming that she had a stomach ache. "Do you think it's the flu?" her father had asked, and Brooke had nodded. "Probably, it's going around school. But with some rest I'm sure I'll be as good as new."

When's it going to get harder to hide? She questions herself. This all seems way too easy now. Why do you want to create problems?! A voice yells inside her head. Be thankful that your family and everyone around you don't care about what you're doing, and that they're all so easy to fool. You're just proving that you're smarter. That you're stronger…

Brooke sighs inwardly. This has only been going on for two days now, and yet I've already lost two pounds. 112 the numbers on the scale had flashed almost angrily when she had gotten up the nerve to step on the scale she kept hidden in her closet a mere hour earlier.

Ignoring the magazine in front of her, Brooke leans over and grabs a tiny spiral notebook from on top of her night table. "What's my goal…" she mumbles. She then writes in bold letters the number 90 diagonally across the page. Turning a page back Brooke then writes 112 neatly on one line. This is where I'll keep track.

Brooke then closes the notebook and sticks it underneath her pillow. Then she pushes the forgotten _Vogue_ to the opposite side of the bed and crawls underneath the covers. Sneaking a hand out from underneath the comforting sheets of her bed, Brooke clicks off her lamp allowing her sanctuary to be bathed in darkness.

After all…Tomorrow's just a few short hours away.


	3. Paper Bag

Paper Bag

* * *

* * *

Three weeks have passed since Brooke slipped silently back into old habits. And nothing is any easier. If anything, things have only gotten worse. The day that Sam won the race for Homecoming Queen (after Nicole and Mary Cherry were caught stuffing the ballot box) Brooke binged on an entire family-sized bag of plain potato chips, four of Jane's homemade chocolate chip cookies, and three large slices of pizza. In order to _clean_ herself of the fat that was now certainly settling into her body, she rushed into the bathroom and purged as much as she could get out, mentally destroying herself even further the whole time. Laxatives were the natural next step, even though they gave her awful stomach cramps, that feeling was better than allowing herself to feel full. A punishing exercise routine would follow, which, by this point, now includes daily runs around the neighborhood. Anything that could be done to burn calories or get rid of fat was going to be done. Presidential duties were no less stressful. School is more difficult than normal to handle, as her mind is preoccupied with calories, weight, and fat, but somehow she remains a **perfect** **A** student. It seems to Brooke, however, that the only thing that brings relief is seeing the numbers on the scale go further and further down. But the lies are piling up, and it is getting harder and harder to hide…

"Brooke, come on now, it's dinner time!" Brooke could hear the tinge of anger in her father's voice.

For days now he had made casual remarks about her appearance, but she always brushed it off by saying she was simply busy with school and related activities to eat properly, but not to worry, she was fine. "Be careful" Mike had warned. "I don't want to see you like you were." Maybe you don't, she thought, but what if I do?

"I can't stay for dinner." Brooke announces apologetically, as she bounces into the kitchen, trying not to look at the table full of food, and wishing she didn't have the sense of smell. "I've promised Carmen I would meet her at the mall to help her buy a new outfit for a job interview she has coming up. I've brought some money with me…" She says, holding up a twenty dollar bill as proof. "I'll just buy my dinner at the food court."

Sam, over her meal of a hamburger and buttered noodles, eyes Brooke suspiciously. "That's funny. Carmen hasn't mentioned anything to me about a job interview."

Brooke gulps. "Well, that must be because she's nervous."

"Then why would she tell you? I mean, you guys aren't exactly best friends, unless things have drastically changed in the last couple of hours."

"Well, she probably only told me because she needs some fashion advice, and let's face it, despite being voted Homecoming Queen, you don't know Target from Gucci when it comes to fashion. I bet she won't want you confronting her about it either, she might think you were trying to make her feel guilty or something."

Sam suddenly gets defensive. "Guilty! I do not try to make people feel guilty. You're the one who always blames other people for your problems. Josh, Lily, my mother, your mother…"

"That's an awful thing to say, Sam. And not true. If you talk to Carmen like you're talking to me, it's no wonder she came to me and not to you. You must be a lousy friend."

"What? I am one of her closest friends! I am a great friend. You're the one who-"

"Now, girls," Jane interrupts. "I don't want to get involved in your arguments, and I don't like to pick sides, but Brooke has a point." She holds up her hand to signal silence from Sam. "If Carmen wanted you to know about her interview she'd tell you. For now, just let it go."

Sam glares at Brooke before returning to her dinner, leaving Brooke to escape feeling a little bit more trapped than she felt before.

Later that evening, Brooke is sitting in her room , rehashing the days events in her notebook. The notebook has now become not only a place to record numbers, but a place to spill feelings, and a place to be creative. Collages of emotionless models with stick-thin legs and protruding ribcages fill pages, with quotes and lyrics surrounding them, and glittery stickers that Brooke had stuck everywhere in a moment of boredom. She flips back a few pages to her weight log. 100 pounds as of this morning. There's a thick arrow pointing to the left of the number with Brooke's angry cursive writing stating that _triple digits equal fat. _I'm only 10 pounds from my goal weight though. With that thought a small smile creeps onto her face, lingering just for a moment, but long enough that if anyone had been in the room they would see at once just how beautiful of a girl she truly is. Yet her eyes remain sad. And if anyone cared to look close enough, they'd be seeing into the soul of a very lost little girl. But nobody was ever there to look; there was nobody ever there to care. Brooke holds her head in her hands and stares off into space. Tempted to cry, but afraid to show weakness to herself.

"Brooke, I just wanted to…"

Mike entered her bedroom, startling the blonde out of her terrible daydream. Stuffing her notebook under the covers of her bed, Brooke feels her anxiety levels start to rise. What if he had caught a glimpse of the book? One glimpse and that was it. Back into treatment, out of school, no longer President…

"God, dad. Knock much?" She asks, attempting a lightness to her voice.

"I just wanted to see how you were doing; you looked a little pale earlier. Uh, there's fruit in the kitchen if you want any. You've really got to be careful. You're starting to look really skinny again…"

Starting. An inner voice takes this as an opening to berate her. You're only starting to look skinny. That means you were a total fat ass three weeks ago. _Oh god, why did I eat that bowl of cereal at lunch time?_ You're a pig, that's why, the loud voice tells her. You can't help yourself… You want to be fat… You want to be ugly…

"NO!"

"Brooke?" Mike asks, his voice full of concern.

Brooke keeps her composure. "No, daddy, I'm fine. I've been eating a lot, I promise. I've probably only lost one or two pounds at most, and that's been completely by accident."

"If you say so. I hope you'll eat more tomorrow. It'll do you good." Mike says as if eating more will solve all problems.

"Sure, daddy. I will. You have nothing to worry about." As she says these words, Brooke feels a pain in her chest. Lying to spare someone's feelings is one thing, but lying to someone that you love so much to protect yourself… That's something Brooke has never gotten accustomed to doing.

After her father leaves her room, Brooke takes out her notebook once more. Turning to a clean page she writes a lyric from one of her favourite songs neatly on the top line. _Hunger hurts, but starving works…_

It doesn't hurt me. She thinks. It makes me feel…**Alive**. Reaching under her pillow, Brooke removes a paper bag full of candy. With one fluid motion she throws it into the waste basket a few steps away from her bed. Brushing her hands together, with a smug look on her face, Brooke feels as if she's ready to take on the world.

But what she doesn't know is that the world is ready to fight back.


	4. Keep Me From Blowing Away

Authors note: Sorry for the delay! Here's the latest chapter. Please R&R!!!

Disclaimer: I do not own Popular or the characters (the nurse and Doctor O'Hardy are my own invention though)

Keep Me From Blowing Away

"Brooke!" Mike yells up the stairs to his teenage daughter. "Brooke!" He yells again, a little louder. "Sammy," he says, turning to the brunette daughter of his girlfriend. "Could you run upstairs and wake Brooke up? I think she slept through her alarm."

"Sure thing." Sam says, leaping up from the table, her half-eaten pop-tart still in hand. "Brooke!" She yells as she gets closer to the door. "Brooke!" She screams, pounding on the door. "Get up, lazy. It's almost time to go. C'mon!" It wasn't like Brooke McQueen not to be the first one up, the first one ready, and the first one out the door. Throwing caution to the wind, Sam opens Brooke's door. "Brooke… Oh for the love of- Mike! Mom! Come up here NOW!" Sam yells in a panic, dropping her breakfast. Passed out in front of her mirror on the floor was a skeletal Brooke dressed in a tiny blue mini-dress.

"What's going on, Sam, you nearly gave me a heart atta-" Mike stops, mouth open, tears forming in his eyes. "Call 911." Sam stands, arms folded, looking at Brooke's lifeless body. "Now. Sam. Now."

Sam runs down the stairs and grabs the cordless phone. "911? Yes, hi, I need an ambulance immediately."

"What's going on, honey?" Jane asks as she comes around the corner holding a basket of laundry.

"It's Brooke, Mom." Sam says, hanging up the phone. "She… Passed out upstairs. I don't think she's been eating. I don't even think she's breathing… Mom… This isn't right. The ambulance should be here soon…"

Jane sets the basket down on the counter and goes over to her daughter, embracing her in a warm, comforting hug. "Brooke is strong. She'll be alright once we get her to a hospital. Where is that damn ambulance?"

--

"Mr. McQueen?" A timid looking nurse appears in the stark white waiting room.

"Yes, that's me." Mike says, getting up out of his chair. "Is Brooke alright? Can I see her?"

"Please follow me, sir. Doctor O'Hardy wants to speak with you. Privately."

Mike gulps and turns to look at Jane and Sam who both nod understandingly. Mike sighs and turns back to the nurse once more. "Alright, let's move quickly. I want to see my daughter…" He follows the nurse down a deserted corridor until they come to a small door with Doctor P. O'Hardy posted on the door.

"You can go right in, sir." The nurse says as she waits for Mike to open the door.

"Thank you." Mike says shortly as he opens the door to the small office and lets himself in. The room is brightly colored, a contrast to everything else that has been seen around the hospital. There are knick knacks and posters decorating the room, giving the office the vibe of a teenage bedroom as opposed to a serious workplace. Sitting behind a light-colored wood desk that is accented with mint green is a doctor about the same age as Mike McQueen. He's wearing a standard white lab coat but it is overshadowed by a tacky green, printed tie. This doctor clearly has a thing for green.

"Mr. McQueen, please sit down." Doctor O'Hardy says gesturing to a comfortable looking chair.

Mike eases himself into the chair and immediately attacks the doctor with questions. "What's going on with my daughter? What's happened to her?"

"Mr. McQueen, your daughter, Brooke, experienced an acute myocardial infarction." Seeing Mike trying to process this, the doctor presses on. "In other words, a heart attack, brought on by her severe starvation combined with over-use of exercise and diet pills. I am going to be completely honest with you, Mr. McQueen, Brooke is in critical condition."

Mike looks away. "That isn't possible. Brooke is cured."

"Mr. McQueen, people with eating disorders are never completely cured. There are always lingering thoughts making the probability of a relapse likely. I am not a psychologist, but my best guess would be that Brooke's relapse was triggered by a string of particularly stressful events. Did you notice any change in Brooke's behavior?"

"No, no. She was a little more withdrawn than usual, but I thought that was just because she was so involved with her Presidential duties. And she's always been a sensitive person so she was probably concerned with her friend Harrison…" Mike trails off.

"These issues you're going to need to discuss with Sue Redding. She's our top eating disorder specialist and she's going to be the one who will be helping Brooke. That is, when she's ready. Brooke is going to be here for a long time, I hope you understand. There has been sufficient damage to her heart. She's going to need to spend a deal of time in cardiac rehabilitation alone. Afterwards is when we'll discuss plans for detailed psychological help. Likely a combination of psychotherapy and medication- antidepressants. Brooke's body needs to heal first. And believe me when I say I understand what you are going through." Doctor O'Hardy's tone is sympathetic and understanding.

Mike pushes himself out of the chair. "Excuse me, doctor, but I don't think you understand at all what I'm feeling. My daughter almost died. My daughter was, essentially, trying to kill herself by abusing her body. You cannot possibly begin to understand what that feels like."

Doctor O'Hardy looks up at Mike through his horn-rimmed glasses. "Mr. McQueen, six years ago my youngest daughter died due to complications with her eating disorder. I understand more than hopefully you ever will. Now, my team and I are going to do everything we can to help your daughter."

--

Mike walks back to the waiting room in a daze. He is greeted by a hug from Jane. And a concerned Sam. "Is she okay? What happened?" Sam asks.

"She had a heart attack." Mike says in a flat tone.

Sam's eyes widen in horror and Jane holds Mike tighter.

"She's in critical condition. But they're going to do everything they can to help her. Now we've just got to have faith. We've got to have faith."


End file.
